Radio Rock Takes America
by Cannedtuna
Summary: "Radio Rock may have been outlawed in the U.K, however, it isn't in the land of pride and freedom-" "Canada!" Newsreader John shouted. The Count laughed, then said, "America. We can still take America."
1. Chapter 1

**AU/ Hello everybody! So this weekend I watched _The Boat That Rocked_, or in Canada_ it's Pirate Radio _but whatever. So, knowing myself well enough, my imagination went a little mad. So I'm writing a sequel! It might turn out like crap but whatever, I can't get it out of my head. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own _The Boat That Rocked_, or any of it's characters. Nor do I own the artists mentioned in the story. But I do own additional OC's added and the plot. :D**

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_"By the summer of 1967, The Golden Age of Pirate Radio was over, but their big dream never died."_

_"Did it really?"_

_"On August 10th, 1967 American DJ and former member of Radio Rock, The Count, and the Captain of the ship, Quentin, formed a small team and held a meeting concerning all the once members of the now illegal Pirate Radio station."_

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It was a warm and muggy day in the south end of London. The sun was out, yet is was shielded from humanity by heavy rainclouds. Perhaps it would rain in the near future, no one really knew.

Stood against various, paint chipped, crumbling buildings stood the Greenman's Pub. Greenman's had been there for quite a while, nearly twenty years. It was a favorite of college kids to spend a Saturday night; gambling, drinking, picking up the pretty girls who flocked there. During the week it was the place of old grumpy men, who wanted a drink and to talk to their comrades in peace.

On this particular Thursday afternoon, around three o'clock, many different faces began to appear at the entrance of the pub. They all were different, in voices, looks, personalities. However, they all shared one thing in common: Their taste for the best music around.

Carl had been the first to arrive there.

Wearing a plain blue jumper, collared white shirt and grey slacks he seemed to feel a little formal for his surroundings. It looked like a rough place. He could handle it though, after all he was expelled from school.

He laughed at the memory. He was in his senior year, and got expelled for doing pot. He didn't think it was a big deal. Maybe it was, when after him and his friends got incredibly stoned they decided to go about the dormitories of the institute and draw and write some vulgar things on all the hallway walls with permanent ink. It was for shits and giggles, all and all.

Then, after he was expelled his wild yet posh mother sent him away to live with Carl's godfather, her old "friend" (What Carl meant by "friend" was a fair weather friend of his mother's and they probably had sex every time they saw each other. The proof behind this was simply his Mum. Quite the party animal, he had heard many stories about her he did not wish to hear) Quentin.

And Quentin happened to be the Captain of the best place on earth, Radio Rock, a large Pirate Radio station that floated on the high seas. A place of simply, sex, drugs and rock and roll.

That was the best time of his life. He made some great friends, met his long lost father, fell in love, lost his virginity (stating the above) and got into some things that would cause him so much trouble in the real world that was completely approved of on the boat. It was like there was no rules. It was perfect.

Then, the authorities got involved. They hated Radio Rock. Carl simply couldn't put his finger on why they did. Who wouldn't like something as great as Rock and Roll? But they did. And they went and made it illegal.

The problems started then. The members had a great idea: Rebel the law put out and set sail. It seemed great, but the reality wasn't so. Shortly after setting sail, the engine of the ship blew, and it started to sink. Moments before everyone's death, fans of the area came out to rescue the crew.

And that brought him home. Things were alright after that. He was going steady with the girl of his dreams, Marianne, but that was the only really nice thing. He was eighteen, didn't have much of an education and jobless. Plus, there wasn't twenty-four hours of rock being played.

So he searched. Searched for jobs under his mother's command, which was quite difficult.

Until one day a piece of luck was brought to him. He didn't know if it was luck but he prayed it sure would be. A few days ago he received a letter from one of his friends on the boat, the lead Disc Jockey, The Count. It had specifically told him to meet at Greenman's pub today, for a talk. He didn't know who was coming, he hoped he wasn't alone in this.

Carl was suddenly a little shy. He could go on in the pub, but was slightly afraid of the possibilty of being all alone with bartender and the awkwardness that would come with it. So he stood outside, kicking the gravel with this scuffed up basketball shoes.

He suddenly wondered what The Count wanted to say. Would he think up a new way to outsmart the government? Probably not. After all they had no boat or no records. Maybe he got me a job with someone? Or maybe he was just saying farewell and that we had a good run.

Carl's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the screeching of car tires coming up around the corner.

Out from behind a building came a 1964 Red Mustang. It was swerving madly, as if the driver was crazy or extremely intoxicated. Oh no, Carl thought. The car was coming right for him. It quickly did a U-turn and slid right in front of Carl, who with instinct jumped out of the way. It skidded to a stop, and the engine was cut.

The doors didn't even open when Midnight Mark hopped out the driver's seat window. _Great_, Carl thought, _not only is he one-hundred percent more of a bird magnet then me, but he can drive like a complete badass_. Don't get him wrong, Carl did like Mark, but sometimes his almost perfect sex appeal made Carl a little jealous.

Mark was wearing a pair of sunglasses, leather pants with a matching jacket and no shirt of underneath, and looking rather like Jim Morrison.

Following him out of the car was his fellow friends, Thick Kevin, who was wearing a large grin on his face and "nut" Angus, who rather clumsily stumbled out of the vehicle.

At the sight of Carl, Nut yelled with joy, "Young Carl!" and sprinted over to him. Angus grabbed Carl's shoulder's and said happily, "You got a note too? My god, maybe your joining the crew Little Carl!" Then threw himself into an embrace with Carl. Carl was trying hard not to laugh, and hugged him back appreciatively.

Kevin came over, still grinning. "Hullo mate."

"Hello, miss me as your roomie?" Carl asked after breaking away from Nutsford.

"Absolutely, mate. Don't know if there could be a better one then you. Except that you could see me hiding under the blankets," He said, chuckling.

Carl laughed. "Well, I'm glad so, it's a tad creepy, don't you think?"

They both erupted in laughter, while The Nut joined in. It surprised them both when Mark joined in laughing.

"Hey Mark," Carl said, while Mark slickly saluted back using two fingers to greet him. The lad never said a word.

Soon enough, another car was pulling up. It was fairly weather beaten, and had a large peace sign painted on the back.

Then, another car. Soon several cars were parking next to the Pub, all members of Pirate Radio. Everyone that Carl loved like a brother (except for Felicity you could say he loved her like a sister) was there.

There was many cries of happiness and hugs going around. Nearly everyone had jumped on Carl and squeezed him tight. He like it too, being loved. It was something special. All of the happiness of seeing each other and the anxiety of what the meeting was for was all muddled up in a giant ball of excitement, that flowed like an energy.

There was The Count, Gavin, Quentin, Mark, Bob, Dr. Dave, Felicity, Mark, Kevin, Angus, John and Harold. It didn't take Carl long to notice that there was someone missing from the group.

"Where's Simon?" Carl asked aloud.

Speak of the devil.

"CARL!" Simon yelled from behind him, then excitedly jumped on his back, hugging him.

Laughing, Carl said, "How are you, Simon?"

He promptly shook Simon off, then hugged him properly.

He looked as happy as ever. Simon had been through alot for himself to take. His wife had left him for Gavin after simply seventeen hours of marrige, and he survived it. Now he looked great. There was a childish sparkle in his eyes, and a large grin on his face.

He said in a hushed voice, "Do you think we're getting back together?"

Carl shrugged. "I really don't know, Simon. I guess we'll have to see."

Now, with everyone there, the crew began to proceed into the pub. Carl silently wondered if they would all fit in there.

The pub was warm, or cozy as some would say. With peeling emerald green paint on the walls and chestnut brown floors and iron chandeliers it offered a feeling of home to Carl. But now, Carl wasn't exactly sure where home was.

The grizzled and elderly bartender had looks of awe as everyone began to take seats.

Carl took a seat next to Dr. Dave at the end of a table.

"Hello Carl," Dave greeted him with a smile.

"Hi Dave, how've you been?"

Dave sighed. "Not too great. Without the boat it's been harder for me to find a lady. Seems they don't like the beefy ones anymore."

Carl couldn't help snickering.

"Attention fellow rockers!" Quentin's voice came from the front of the bar. The loud chatter that was going on faded and everyone turned to him. He was standing attentively, looking in command at the front, beside The Count who also looked as if he was Quentin's assistant.

"You must be all wondering why we brought you here today," Quentin said. The Count stepped forward.

"It's been three months since Radio Rock was banned and our ship sank, leaving us all with nothing to really live for," He said.

There were several nods of agreement across the room.

"But, in those three months that I was living in Quentin's basement" -He sent a look of appreciation towards Quentin- "I had an epiphany."

Some hushed whispers filled the room.

"Radio Rock may have been outlawed in the U.K, however, it isn't in the land of pride and freedom-"

"Canada!" Newsreader John shouted.

The Count laughed, then said, "America. We can still take America."

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**Please R&R :D**


	2. Just Like The Beatles Did

"What?" Cried Dave. The room was suddenly filled with blabbering chatter.

"That's absurd!" Newsreader John exclaimed.

"But our ship!"

"Our records!"

_"Our fans!"_

"Everything is gone!"

The Count smiled. "Our money isn't."

Then, everyone seemed to remember. They had never really given a thought about the profits they made with Radio Rock, after all they didn't need much but food, which was cheap because Felicity was good friends with the owner of the food store that supplied them. Come to think of it, they didn't really spend much money at all. Well, money can't buy me love, as the lads say.

"With advertising over the years, at the most, we have made a rather large amount of"- The Count rubbed his fingers to his thumbs in the air - "Money."

"Probably around, I'd say... 2000.00 quid," Quentin said, blandly.

The was a gasp in the room. It stayed quiet until Gavin broke the silence. In his deep and throaty voice he said, "My god. We're rich bastards."

There was sudden cheers of delight in the room, until The Count shushed them, and continued, "With those generous profits we made, I was able to do a little pre-planning... To tell you the truth, actually, I bought a boat."

"How?"

"Remember that fellow, the old fisherman, Bill who brought people out on to the boat for us? Well, I was talking to him a while ago and he told me that his brother in law had a nice Ship for sale, cheap price and in good condition. I just couldn't refuse the offer, so I bought it. It's great. It spacy, comfortable and has more room then the last boat! And it's equipped to sail the seas, so we won't have any trouble there," The Count said, proudly.

The room was silence. Carl thought everyone there was flabbergasted. He knew he was. _We're setting sail again? _He asked himself. Then the realization hit him.

"This is great," Carl said aloud, "I mean, there's going to be a Radio Rock again!"

Once again, this statement caused jeers of happiness, laughter and bubbly excitement.

"I'll get to D.J. again!" Cried Simon.

"I'll have a house again!" Yelled Bob.

"The _girls _will be back!" Dave said, grinning.

"Let's not get too excited now," Gavin directed to the group, then turned to The Count. "What exactly are the tactics to this plan?"

"I was just getting to that," The Count said, shooting a look of friendly competition towards Gavin, which Gavin slyly returned.

"The next thing we have to focus on is records. All of ours were lost when the ship sink, and we need to replace them. I need all of you to help with this one. Try friends, family, anyone, try to get records. I'm going to look into the record companies, and see if they can get us a deal for certain artists. I'm talking the bigwigs, EMI, Parlophone, all of that stuff. We can also have a fundraiser or something, to see if fans want to give us money or records."

"Also, we need a broadcasting system," Quentin added.

"Ooh! I've got one of those! It's in my Mum's basement!" Angus cried.

"Excellent," Quentin said, clapping his hands together.

It seemed all set in place to Carl, except for just one thing. Hesitantly, he raised his hand.

"Yes, Carl," The Count acknowledged.

"Er-" Carl started, "How exactly are we going to get people's attention in America?"

"Good question," The Count said, grinning. "I like to think of it this way, like we're The Beatles in 1963. We've achieved mainstream success in our territory, now we're trying to get popular in the holy land. How did they do that?"

Gavin smirked. "They released_ I Want To Hold Your Hand _and all the American birds loved it."

"Yes... But how did they get to that point?"

"The Ed Sullivan Show," Felicity said bashfully.

"Exactly."

"Your mad!" Bob cried. "The Ed Sullivan Show is for goodie-goodies! He'd never let us advertise on his show! We can't!"

"I wasn't thinking that we'd advertise on _his_ show. I was more thinking that _we _could advertise his show! I think we would get more views on that!"

"Ahem," Came a voice from behind the bar. Everyone turned to face the old and withered bartender.

"It's closin' time," He said gruffly, gesturing to the clock on the wall.

"It says you close around ten," Quentin argued curtly.

"We close early tonight. Me wife wants me home for dinner, lads," The bartender said irritatedly.

"Sorry. We'll be out in a few minutes," Quentin said, and the bartender nodded.

"I guess that's it for now, but we can meet again soon. Let's say, er, tomorrow at the docks, I'll show you the ship," The Count announced. "And congratulations to all of us."

With that, the crow of D.J.'s and friends began to disperse, hugging each other goodbyes.

They were all happy with the news they had just received, excitement of meeting again tomorrow shot through them like the blood in their viens.

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**I'm so sorry for the wait! The next chapter might be a while, I'm going on a class trip for the week! Keep reading!**

**- Love Cannedtuna. :D**


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